Listen Please
by BreakMeAgain
Summary: The story of a man who is conned by a thief.


"Attention, please? Listen! Please? Attention!"

The cobbled steps to the prison were just out of sight as Flint and Tanner walked closer and closer to its entrance. They were there for more than just visitation though, they were entering this backstreet nut-house, named _The Folly_ for obvious reasons, the doors were nailed shut and yet, not really…

Tanner stuck his hand to one nail, and fitted his fingernails between the nail head and the door, he pried lightly and the nail was pulled from the door easily. It was a small security device, though the nails could be pulled easily from the outside, they couldn't be budged on the other side, leaving the prisoner stuck within the walls of the jailhouse, even out of his cell.

"You're outta luck it seems…" Flint said, reading a sign beside door.

"What are you on about now?" Tanner asked.

"You got ole Shank, he's _weird_." Said Flint, much like that of a boy describing cooties.

"Oh really? And just who d'you think 'as set that up, ey?" Tanner returned.

"Bloody Gustaaf again? That ole' Belgian prick?" Flint asked, Tanner only answering with a nod.

"Methinks you ought have a little talk with Mr. Gustaaf, show 'em who's boss…" Flint returned.

"And _methinks_ you ought scrap up enough innards to do the same. He's set you with Mad-Eye Bill…" Tanner replied, pointing to Flint's name upon the list.

"Damn!, 'tat ole cross-eyed bat?" Flint moaned.

"Indeed." Said Tanner, pulling the last nail from the door. He gave a long whistle and a groundskeeper appeared beside him, grumbling.

"What choo' need, sur?" Asked the Cossack male.

"Re-tighten these, I can sense a real bloody scrap in a bit." Flint said with a glare in his eyes, handing the nails back to the groundskeeper. The groundskeeper gave him a scared look, like one of a child who just broke his mother's best china.

"Yes Sir, no problem." The Cossack turned his back and scurried towards the shed.

"You've problems, friend." Tanner told his depressed companion.

"Well, I'm a bit off with all this 'bout that Belgian ass." Grumbled Flint.

"Sure, sure, methinks you should 'show 'em who's boss…'" Tanner said.

"Oh, how'd I know today would be such a Hell?" groaned Flint. As they walked inside the prison, they began flashing badges to each of the guards.

"You 'ave proper access now, muh-boys!" Said the familiar guard, Clent.

Flint turned the corner, leaving Tanner to take the lower cells down towards Shank, the craziest loon in the prison. He passed several cell blocks on the way there, he took notes on the previous patients.

_Jim Johnson, convicted of arson, sitting in a middle mannered position which usually signals he's having deep withdrawal symptoms from lack of fire._

_Thorn K. Pit, Thievery, staring at the 'T' burned into his hand to show he was a thief. His funeral was in a couple of weeks, and his death in five days._

_Jin Toke, convicted of insanity, not really such a big problem with him, so long as you wasn't wearing the color white, then he might get the urge to throttle you._

The list went on and on in his head until he met the very bottom floor. Water dripping around him, falling from the roof, considering he was beneath one of the lakes of the area.

"Well, how are you today, Shank?" Tanner asked.

"Well, I'm in a bit of a spat." Shank said.

"Why what ever could this _spat_ be?" Tanner furthered.

"I'm very, very far below a lake, and my wall seems to have sprung a leak."

"Why me! I don't see any water dripping though!" Tanner exclaimed.

"You can quit talking to me like I'm mad, I'm not." Shank returned.

"Shank, you just told me your room was flooding, and your cell is probably the driest here, do you really expect me to take you serious?" Tanner asked.

"No, I suppose not. But how would you like it if you were in a cell, below the depths of Hell? I've been here for weeks, and I've yet to have a taste of blood…" Shank said.

"I heard you were a murderer… go on."

"Well, not really a murderer, more of a… Cannibal." Shank said, licking his lips, as if he were dreaming of a piece of human flesh between his teeth.

"Hmm, and what makes you think you'd be something like that?"

"Could it be the fact that I ate my children and wife mid-sleep?" Shank said. Tanner didn't grimace as most would, he simply twitched his leg a little.

"Well, Shank, what'd you do before you thought you'd go off and eat everyone with toes?" Tanner said, changing the subject. Laughing, Shank replied, well not really laughing at some unheard joke, just at the way the words had been said so calmly and harmlessly.

"Oh, I was a Mason back then, I didn't even really think much about life really, I just did what I was good at. Next day I woke up and my wife's and children's bones were mixed in with the mortar, and track led straight to my house. I threw up a bit when I woke up full with a dead wife and youngsters." Shank chuckled again, as if he himself were saying words he'd never thought he'd hear.

"Well, Shank, why do you think you are here, even though you weren't conscious when you did such deed?" Tanner asked.

"Really don't know, don't try and think 'bout it much, too painful a thought." Shank said.

"Well, what do you think about?" asked Tanner.

"That leak in my wall being plugged…" Shank said. Tanner laughed.

"Don't think that'll happen too quick, the way you leave those chicken bones about." Shank looked at his bed, where his tray had been left, he raised a brow and then understood the joke.

"Oh, very clever, sir!" laughed Shank. After a moments pause "Sir?"

"Yes, Shank?" Tanner asked.

"Well… I was just noticing that you were a very nice man… Nice men would do such a miserable man as me, with a hole in his wall that no one else sees, a favor?" Shank asked.

"I'll try, run it by me first…" Tanner began twirling cogs in his head.

"Well… I've got me a man inside the Groundskeepers' shed, a Cassock twig of a man." Shank said.

"Yes, I saw 'im on my way in." Tanner recalled.

"Well, as it jus' so happens, he's more than willing to take my place on the guillotine for a few sixpence to his family…" Shank replied.

"That's quite a rough question there, Shank…" Tanner said "If anyone found out, they might put _me_ on that guillotine. If not that, I defiantly wouldn't be the one to go and check all the patients, make sure whether their gears are turning or not…"

"But, we won't be caught. You just got to take that Cassock with you, when he's down here, we'll switch outfits, and I'll take a garment from a man of worth. Then I'll walk out alone. You'll head a few minutes after me…" The man said. The plan was forming in Tanner's head. It was mad… But Shank was a hearty character, it wouldn't do him bad to be on the streets again. Hell, he'd been in jail for a one time deal… Even though the one time deal happened to be slaughtering his hole family and eating them…

"I'll think about it."

After heading home and not getting a wink of sleep, Tanner came back the next day to see that that old toad of a Belgian had set him up with Shank again. After Flint exchanged a few remarks of little worth, the groundskeeper showed up.

"Why, sir, do you need those nails replace again?" Asked the Cassock.

"No, I think they'll be good for a while, follow me." Tanner said.

They walked down the hallway, Flint giving Tanner a few weird looks as they all flashed identification to the guards. When Flint began to round the corner, Tanner asked him quickly.

"May I borrow your coat, Good-Sir Flint?" Tanner asked.

"Why the bloody Hell does you need my coat?" questioned Flint.

"Simply because it's very drafty down there below the lake. I was wondering if I could borrow your coat…" Tanner asked again.

"Fine, but 'ave it back by shifts end." Flint replied. Taking the coat, Tanner and the Cassock took down the cells and ended up at Shanks cell.

"Oh, I see that you do have a heart, sir!" Shank exclaimed when he saw the Cassock.

"Now, now, don't get all emotional. Hurry up and change clothes while I pick this lock." Tanner said, pulling a pin from his hair and sticking it inside the lock, probing back and forth until he felt the tumblers. One set, two set, three set, done. The door swung open and the Cassock jumped in, looking remarkably like a plumper Shank.

"Very good, you barely even see the fact his face color's different, since it's so dark down here." Tanner commented.

"Aye." Shank offered his worth.

They set off back up the cell, Shank wrapping the coat around him. Shank walked up to the guards and flashed the Cassocks identification.

"Why Jules! You look sick! You're as pale as a ghost!" Said Clent, the guard.

"O, very so, Sir. I thinks I got a cold in that cold room." The accent was flawless.

"You look like you threw up a coupl'a pounds, skinny boy!" Clent exclaimed.

"Close…" Shank said, still in accent. Clent gave a disgusted look.

"Eww…" He said under his breath "Well, you go on and get you some rest, we don't need any sick Cassock runnin' about gettin' folks ill…"

"No, sir…" Shank said, and began walking out of the building.

A few hours later, Tanner took the same route, he walked outside.

"What'd you need ole Jules for?" asked Clent.

"Oh, Shank said he felt sorry for the guy, gave him his coat right off his back…" Tanner gave his excuse. "Well, guess it's time to be heading home."

Clent gave him a funny look and let him go. When Tanner walked out, the _new_ groundskeeper was staring at him.

"Well, thank you much for helping me, I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life a groundskeeper, but Hell, its better than a prisoner…" Shank said, handing the coat back.

"Very well, I think I'm off, I'm still a bit jumpy 'bout all this." Tanner said. Shank nodded and ran to the Groundskeepers' shed. Tanner turned back and walked inside, he handed the coat to a guard, and making sure it wasn't Clent.

"Can you get this back to Flint, I borrowed it and never returned it." Tanner said.

"Sure thing, Sir." And Tanner gave a little thought to telling the guard all of what just happened. Yet couldn't, he'd be hanged. The deal was done, and there was nothing that could change it…

Tanner turned and left.

A few weeks later, Tanner was found with his throat slit in his bed. Nobody really knew who'd done it. The door was picked without scratching the lock, there was no evidence to be found… Flint was the first to discover the body. After a few hours of questioning, he left, passing a wanted poster as he went. The poster read:

"Shank Thremons,

Escaped and dangerous. A reward will be given for

This man, due to separate charges Thievery and

Arson.

800 Shillings"


End file.
